The Love Thieves
by Ladywilde
Summary: M and N risk all for whatelse...eachother of course
1. Love Under Duress

The Love Thieves

Setting: This is most easily placed in midseason one.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my good looks. Nikita, Michael and the rest belong to Warner Brothers/USA etc. Rated R – for violence, sexual content and language.

Note: I realize that Madeline is a bit out of character, there is a reason for that… however, I have done my outmost best to get the other characters down as accurately as possible. Hope I didn't disappoint…also I am no grammar wiz but I spell check like no one's business… if you want to beta for me… please be so kind as to introduce yourself, thanks.

_Michael and Nikita risk death, torture and a disapproving Operations for each other_

If you die, you said

So do I, you said

And it starts the day you cross the line

Tell me I'm forever yours

And your forever mine

Forever mine

- The Cure

Chapter One

Love Under Duress

"This isn't going to be easy…" Those words came in went as she struggled to regain consciousness. How trite, they had seemed then, she had been a fool. After all she had done, seen and been through, she hadn't believed that they were going to die, not now, not ever.

"I love you," She whispered in between moans and the man beside her, bloodied and beaten could only lay his hand on her feverish brow and echo the same. It was too late now, they were done for and she might never regain consciousness long enough for him to tell her how he felt. How in the years past, he had ached for her, longed for her, and loved her, in silence, in shame. He was sorry that it was to end this way and now at the end of all things, he could right no wrongs. He could only sit and hope there was still enough time to let her know, all she was and all she had been to him in the darkest days of his life. It was she who was his one and only, his only reason for living – for caring on when all had seemed lost and unchangeable and he loved her for that.

"This isn't going to be easy," Madeline said with her customary air of nonchalance as a bored Nikita and an ever-present Michael listened as she debriefed them on their next assignment.

"I do not expect failure on this one, it's a simple enough task, you go in together, blow up their mainframe and get out – end of story - you have four hours."

"Or –" Nikita said raising an eyebrow over one of her expressive blue eyes. Michael shot her a quick look, which she ignored as usual.

"Or – you answer to the man upstairs, Nikita." Madeline said with a small grin. "Understand?"

Nikita nodded.

"Is that all?" Michael asked.

"That is all…"Madeline said rising and dismissing them both.

Nikita got out of her seat slowly as Michael came over.

"You look a bit peaked, Michael, frightened?" Nikita teased. Michael looked away and then back to her, there was that pause again, the one that always caught the air between them electric. There was another pause.

"Nikita, I have misgivings about this mission" Michael said slowly, "be careful."

"I," she said with a flourish, "am always careful."

She slid her sunglasses from her head and gave him a quick pat on the shoulder. It was with that and another cheeky grin that she turned away from him and started walking away. He stood there a moment watching her leave. He felt his hands began to shake ever so slightly; there it was again, that tremble he always felt when she was near. He hated himself for it, for this hopeless wanting of what was an impossible to have. This burning – this need for a woman, who he was all but sure, hated him.

It looked like an ordinary run down warehouse, boarded up and in an awful section of town, right on the outskirts of an inner city slum. Michael and Nikita stood, clad in all black, ready to get in and get out without a hitch.

"Birkoff," Nikita whispered into her headpiece to the teenage computer expert back at section.

"Yes," came back a voice.

"Are we clear?" She asked as Michael met her eyes, she looked away, surveying the scene.

"Yeah, home clear – two armored vans left about two hours ago, there is some security left behind, looks like five or six, tops; but you two can get passed easily."

"Cool," Nikita said as Michael gestured for her to follow him. They moved stealthily, on silent feet through the cover of dark, ducking behind abandoned cars, brick piles, they moved slowly and with precision.

They found a window on the bottom floor and Michael set about creating a hole large enough for them to squeeze through. It was only a matter of minutes before he was removing a circular piece of glass and setting it carefully against the wall of the warehouse.

He helped lower her down and as she stood getting her bearings, he came in after her.

In the distant, they both heard a low hum, signaling them to the direction of the massive computer mainframe they had to blow.

"Like cake," Nikita said and Michael did not reply. There was danger in the air and he could sense it. He watched as Nikita sauntered into the room ahead and before he could call to her to stop, he heard her cry out and then something with the force of a freight train slammed into the back of him and all went dark.

He woke to someone splashing a bucket of ice cold water on him, snapping to he took in the scene around him and saw that both himself and Nikita were tied up and being held in a small windowless room with a number of armed goons and small, sheepish looking fellow wearing a yellow blazer.

"I am Morris Spencer," the man told Michael in a raspy voice.

"Who might you be?" Michael looked away, saw that Nikita was unharmed; inwardly he breathed a sigh of relief. There was a pause.

"You won't tell me?" The man said as he walked over to Nikita who was struggling against her restraints. Morris ran a finger over her defiant chin.

"Your friend is quite the beauty, isn't she?" He asked with a wry grin and Michael chose not to respond. Morris leaned over and planted a large wet kiss on Nikita. Nikita pulled away from him, which had him laughing.

"You might think I am nothing to look at, a nerd if you will," Morris said with a wide sweeping gesture.

"Yet, I am a ruthless man, I want a name and you will give it to me or you two will know pain like you have never known it before, is that clear?"

"You won't get a thing from either of us," Nikita shouted, "You're wasting your time." Morris smiled and turned towards her.

"Is that so my dear?"

Nikita gave him a cocky grin, "that is so," she said.

"Hmmm, will see…"

He gestured to one of his goons, who came over and grasped Nikita by her hair, twisting her head back. Michael suddenly felt overcome with emotion. He wanted to kill them all and yet, he wanted Nikita safe and with that thought in mind, he began to speak and Nikita catching him; shouted with her every breath.

"Don't you tell him a goddamned thing!" Morris, seizing the moment, nodded to his goon to release Nikita and turned his attentions to Michael.

"Are you willing to talk?" Michael turned his head away and willed himself to appear indifferent.

"You didn't like us hurting your pretty, blonde friend, did you?" Michael choked back his fear not for himself but for the woman, who was his only reason for living and she didn't even know it, never would.

"So just tell us who you two work for or…" His mealy black eyes met Michaels.

"Or what?" Michael finally responded.

"You know what?" Morris said as a man with brass knuckles walked over to Nikita and slugged her hard in the gut, she cried out in pain and slumped over.

"No matter what…" she managed to choke out and Michael understood, she didn't want him to crack, not for her. He was in awe of her as he always was; she was strong, so brave. He loved the fact that she had a spirit that refused to be crushed.

Michael tried not to show any emotion, but there was a flicker and Morris saw it.

"Is she your girlfriend, wife, are you sleeping with her?

"No." Michael said softly as the man hit Nikita again, this time in the face, which slammed her back into the wall, there was blood now and he wondered how much more of this would go on before both Morris and his men realized they wouldn't break.

"But you wish you were…right?" Morris said with a perverted smile.

"You're wasting your time," Michael said in a heated whisper, "Do you honestly think I care what you do to her?"

"You're bluffing…" Morris said, " I can sense these things after all I am a bona fide genius, my friend."

Michael turned away and as he did he saw that Nikita had blissfully passed out. He was glad for he didn't want her to see what was to follow as a man with a maniac grin came up beside him carrying a pair of wire cutters.

"Tell me are you willing to lose parts of your body over this?" Morris asked and Michael gathering every bit of his strength, nodded, "It seems that way," he said as the cold steel closed around the index finger of his left hand. Morris nodded to one of his men and then there was pressure and more pain then even he was prepared for…

Nikita woke, with a nagging ache in her body, her head felt as if it was on fire. It took her a moment for her head to clear, to get her bearings and then through the dusty gloom, she realized she was in a basement cell of some sort. She dragged herself to the wall with a heavy groan, leaning back into it, she tried breathing but found her lungs screaming in agony when she tried.

What had happened… and then it started coming back to her, the beating, the torture and Michael…

"Nikita," she heard Michael's voice in the dark and turned to it.

"Michael," she whispered, suddenly hopeful. He had been standing against the bars, looking, trying to figure out if they were coming back – if there was a way, someway…

He hurried towards her, sunk down to his knees and cupped her face in his hands. She was awake! She reached for him, tightening her hands on his shirt; she rested her face against his chest, gasping for breath. She tried looking at him, through the gloom and saw that he was bloodied; his lip slit open and caked with blood, there was an angry gash on his forehead.

He was a mess, as she knew she must be and it was then as she reached for his hand that she noticed the rag wound tight around his left hand. His index finger, they had cut it off, anger surged through her as he slid his hand away from her, into the dark, as if ashamed, she felt sadness so deep and profound, she thought she might die from it.

"They cut off your finger," she whispered.

"Yes," he replied. "Were you afraid?" she asked in a small voice and he answered her as honestly as he could, "Yes but only for you…"

Her heart contracted slightly and she realized that she could no longer deny what she felt for him, she loved him and she knew as she had always known that he loved her too.

"Will die won't we?"

"Yes." Michael said in a heavy voice.

She digested this news, calmly and then she spoke.

"You know…never in my life, even after section, I never expected it to end like this…"

It was then that she realized he was crying and the fact that he even could was amazing to her – she did not know he was capable of such real human emotions, so much so that she momentarily forgot her fear.

She reached up and with a long finger; she traced it down his face, catching his tears.

"You're crying," she whispered. There was silence.

"It appears that way," he said. She slowly turned around, ignoring the pain in her ribs, in her heart as she took his face in her hands and lowered her lips to his, cracked and bleeding.

He reached for her, held her…He caught her face as she pulled back and searching his eyes, she saw him struggling to speak…

" Nikita, I love you…

She felt at last a glimmer of hope, of purpose. Her heart breathed a sigh of relief as she reached for him in the dark and pulled him near.

"I know," she replied.

"They are going to die." Madeline said angrily as she sauntered into Operations office and slammed her hands down on his desk. He looked up at her, with a sly grin. "You want me to send someone in after them, is that it?" She stood back and met his eyes with a hard stare.

"Yes," she replied.

"Risk the lives of countless operatives for two, are you crazy?" He asked her rising from his seat.

"Not last time I checked." She answered.

He sighed and shook his head and turned his back to her.

"No," he said

"What do you mean, no…"

"There a liability and you know it!"

"There two of the finest…"

Operations turned back to her and saw the anger blazing her cheeks.

"They are also in love with each other and that is a problem."

"No – that is not the problem…you are, now fix this or…"

"Or what," Operations countered.

"Or I go in there myself."

There was a heavy pause and Operations slowly came towards her and took her face in his hands, kissed her. "Madeline…"

She turned her face from his and there was a pause.

"Make it happen," she said in a cool whisper, pulling away from him, he paused a moment, took her in and then without another word she hurried to the door and out of his office, slamming it firmly behind her.

It was late when they came back and pulled Michael from her and she watched helplessly as he was dragged away. She scrambled after him but they slammed the door on her but not before he mouthed the words, I love you…

She retreated backwards into the dark, pulled it around her, somehow they would make it through – she could not lose him not now and not ever. She wasn't letting go that easy.

This was the real deal – a once in a lifetime kind of love and he wasn't getting away from her that easily. She would crawl through heaven and hell for him – they didn't know her or him. They were born survivors and this wasn't the end. In her heart she knew that this was only the beginning.

It was later that night when Morris himself came to her and having someone open the door to her cell, he wandered in full of cocky assurance.

"You are looking a bit haggard, my dear." Nikita struggled to her feet and with a show of anger, spat on him. He reached into his pocket with a chuckle and wiped at his face with a hanky he had buried in there.

"Your spunky…I like spunk." He said as he advanced on her.

"I mean honestly I'm impressed…"

"Good for you," she said her voice a breath of fiery heat and he laughed.

"Your friend, he's got nerve…why…we broke both legs…cut off another finger and still he didn't crack…now let me ask you something, are you as tough sweetie?"

He did not see the hard glare in her luminous blue eyes nor did he figure her strength had grown ten fold since Michael had declared his feelings for her. He raised the gun he held, pointed cold deadly metal at her and gave her a small smile.

"Well are you?" he asked again and with a cool nonchalance she raised her eyes to him.

"Tougher," she said with a smile.


	2. The Terms

Chapter Two

The Terms

_Warning This is a very long chapter. I apologize… for any eye problems later on _

Michael awoke surrounded by blinding white; he realized he was back at Section, in the infirmary. He struggled to sit up, noticing both his legs in casts and various tubes and needles running to and from his body._ Nikita! _He called out for her but there was no one …suddenly, the doors swung open and Madeline stepped in, wearing a small smile.

"You're awake?"

"Where is Nikita?" he demanded.

"Michael…the fact that you are alive…"

"Where – is – she?" he demanded through clenched teeth.

Madeline stepped closer to the bed, her hands clasped together.

"She was shot in the head, she is still alive but it doesn't look good…she won't make it." Michael flopped back onto the bed, as waves of pain, grief, horror, surged through him as he contemplated life without Nikita.

He felt Madeline touch his brow, with soft perfumed fingers. He pulled away from her moaning with pain.

"I have to see her," he whispered.

"That isn't an option," she said as gently as she could.

"Your legs are broken…"

Michael turned his head towards her and there were tears in his eyes.

"Do it!" he commanded, raising his voice, something he seldom did and Madeline was taken aback.

"I'm sorry; I know how you felt about Nikita…"

Michael wasn't listening; all he could see was Nikita's face, in the gloom of that cell, bruised and bloody, the intense blue of her eyes fixed on him, her scent, her spirit. He wasn't losing her – not after all he already lost and was constantly losing. He wasn't given up the one thing he had found that was good.

"Were very pleased you will be alright, despite the pains both of you were subjected to – you both maintained your focus and both Operations and myself appreciate your efforts…"

"I don't need your appreciation," he responded coldly. "You trained me to be a machine and I performed like one, so did Nikita…now leave me alone."

Madeline nodded.

"Well then…get some rest," she answered leaving, the door swooshing shut behind her.

Michael watched her leave, feeling every cell of his being, burning – aching for Nikita.

Please don't die…don't die…fight…please 

"Will she make it?" Operations asked, coming up behind Madeline as she stood by Nikita's bedside.

"I don't know," she said turning to him her brown eyes a blaze of pain and anger.

"Did you tell Michael?" he asked and she nodded.

"How did he take it?" he asked.

Madeline whirled on him, "he took it, satisfied!" she hissed.

"Let me know if there are any changes," he said resting a hand on her shoulder before leaving.

Madeline watched him leave and turned her attention to Nikita, lying still and bruised on the bed, her head a mess of bandages.

"Your strong, Nikita, too strong to die…not now…" she whispered leaning down to her…"You come back to us…you have to live."

She was still clinging, fighting to hold onto the fragile cords of her life…word of her fight and her determination, spread through the section and finally to Michael, still holed up in a hospitable bed.

He was surprised but not shocked, that was Nikita, she was a fighter through and through and if anyone of them was going to take a bullet in the head and come out swinging it was she…she was that strong. He knew she wouldn't leave him. They were all they had in the world. A life without her was unthinkable.

When it became clear that Nikita was going to make it, even though she still lay in a coma. They then allowed Michael to be wheeled into her room. He had not seen her in three weeks and even he was not prepared to see her, so completely helpless. There he was left beside her bedside, wearily he held her hand.

"I would have come sooner…but they wouldn't let me…they thought you were going to die but now, they say your going to make it" He knew he was rambling but for once he could not contain the emotion that surged through him, he wanted her to know, every last detail of his hearts longing.

"I am not losing you, wake up," he demanded and was completely taken aback when she opened her eyes and looked at him. His heart literally skipped a beat.

"Nikita," he whispered. "Michael," she whispered. He bowed his head and wept

9 months later…

Nikita strode through section, wearing black leggings and a large black sweater, her hair long and knotted, her standard oversize sunglasses covering her eyes. It was her first day back after a long rehabilitation program, of which she had to prove herself as an operative all over again. If it had not been for Michael, thinking of him, yearning for him, she wasn't sure she would have found the strength to bear it. As it stood, she had not seen him, since the moment she had opened her eyes and saw him sitting by her bed, crying – after that, there was a whirl of activity, doctors poured in, Madeline came in and took over and somewhere in the midst of all that, Michael was wheeled away from her. Now, nine long months had passed and finally she would see him again. The thought filled her with a mixture of hope and fear. What if his feelings had changed for her, what if he no longer loved her! She walked into the debriefing room, trying to remain impartial as she spied Operation, Madeline, and then finally Michael sitting around the table waiting for her.

"Nikita," Operations said offering her a seat.

"Good to have you back"

She sat down and took off her glasses.

"It's nice to be back," she said simply as she caught Michael eyes.

His eyes, those beautiful green eyes of his seemed unreachable, as unreadable as ever.

"Nikita," he said nodding her way.

"Michael," she said simply. Madeline was looking from one to the other and then she indicated for Operations to continue – They were back in business.

Michael had known that today would be Nikita's first day back, after nine months of nothing; even he was taken aback by how beautiful she looked. She hardly looked liked a woman who only mere months ago, had taken a bullet in the head. How casual she seemed, so beautiful and calm. Did she still care for him, like he for her? He had dreamed of her and only her in those long months, waiting, wishing.

Was she only pretending to be as indifferent as he was pretending to be?

He had to know…

The meeting was dismissed but Madeline had asked Michael to stay behind,

Michael watched as Nikita slid her glasses back on and sauntered out of the room, he watched her leave, his heart in his eyes.

"Michael, I need to speak to you about Nikita…"

Michael turned towards the petite brunette.

"She looks good as new," he said simply.

"There was a condition for her return…" Madeline said softly as she came up beside him.

"It was out of my hands… I had to agree to these terms to get you both out…"

Michael turned to Madeline sharply.

"What terms?" he questioned.

"I know how you feel about her, Operations knows it and it's a liability, you can not afford the weakness…"

"I don't…"

Madeline met his eyes, a firm hand on his shoulder.

"You must keep her at a distance, Michael, let her believe that you feel nothing for her other that of another operative…"

"I am afraid I can't do that," Michael said truthfully.

"You have to – because if you don't she will be canceled, those were the terms…"

Michael had heard enough, gathering the cane that he needed now that his legs were still healing, he turned to Madeline and asked of her one thing.

"Why Nikita, why not me…"

"Because you can," She said simply, "you know how."

Nikita waited as Michael came out of his conference with Madeline, he was limping and using a cane. They had both endured so much; it was amazing that they were still alive. They should have died down there in that cell, but they hadn't – somehow they had been spared. He stopped when he saw her and there was the briefest look of passion in his eyes and then it clouded over, as if it had never been there.

"Nikita," He said preparing to walk past her but her arm shot out, catching his elbow. "Michael, I am so glad you're alright," she said faintly.

"I'm fine, you look well…" There was a pause. Nikita sensed a change in his mood and was alarmed.

"Can we talk somewhere?" He thought a moment and then said in a voice thick with pain she did not see.

"Nikita, about us, what you think we have…well, that was the past, do you understand…"

She released him. Her eyes slanted with anger, frustration and hurt.

"What do you mean, the past?"

"You're a good operative, Nikita, but you must learn not let emotion get the best of you…"

There was hard pause.

"No," she said through gritted teeth, stepping away from him. "I let you get the best of me, and I was a fool…"

"Were all fools," he said weakly.

"No – only me," she said slowly. "For letting myself believe that there was something more to you – then just cruelty and lies."

Her eyes flashed angrily, he could see she was fighting back tears.

"Goodnight, Nikita," he said and turned his back on her.

On what might have been, what should have been for she did not know, could not know that inside he was dying.

"Go to hell," she replied.

"Where do you think we are?" He asked her, meaning it.

She came over to him, grabbed his arm hard.

"You are without heart, and when you took mine, you made the biggest mistake of your life, Michael, for I will carve it out of your chest if that's what it takes to get it back."

How could she know that was exactly as he felt, she was everything good in the world and he was losing her, he wanted to do nothing more then to hold her but he could do nothing to ease the pain he was so callously inflicting.

He stiffened his spine, turned to her with a blank stare, his gaze cold and hard.

"You can have it back anytime, Nikita, because I never wanted it in the first place."

"No, you didn't …except maybe to manipulate it, twist it around to suit your own sick desires…"

"Have you said what you wanted to say…"? He asked for he could not bear this conversation any longer, he had to leave; she was starting to get to him, break him down.

She shook her head, clearly disgusted with him.

"Don't worry Michael; I don't think I will ever have anything to say to you ever again."

That being said, she turned and hurried away from him. He watched her leave, he felt sick, angry, and most of all hopelessly and completely in love with a woman he would never have.

"Forgive me," he asked her in a faint whisper but she was too far away to hear, he said it more for himself then to her.

Her apartment smelled musty and unused but it was home and she was glad to be back. She hurried to her bed and threw herself face first upon it. Her heart literally felt shredded inside her. How could he say those things to her – how he could change so much towards her in only nine months, when the last time she had seen him, he had been weeping over as she had laid in a coma fighting for her life. He was such a mystery to her and she could not bear the pain – for despite knowing just how cruel he was, she still loved him. She had always loved him and she had been a fool to believe that he had felt the same. He was incapable of love, she should have known it – Yet, why the lies, why the promises, why had he told her he loved her if he hadn't meant it. What had he meant to gain by it?

That didn't matter now she was through with him.

She wasn't going to let him know how much he had hurt her that was for sure, she was back and she was going to be stronger, colder, and more heartless then ever. She was going to follow his example and be the best damn operative the section had ever seen and she was going to will him out of her – she was going to pretend that those words had never been spoken and that she had never made herself weak for him…

She was going to pretend he never existed.

3 months later…

"Things are progressing well…" Operations asked as Madeline sat across from him.

She sipped her coffee and nodded. "Yes, they are barely cordial to one another…so, yes, it's working…"

"Good." He replied.

"There both fine operatives, it would have been a shame to have to cancel, Nikita…she has progressed far beyond what we had ever hoped for…"

"She has hate to spur her on," Madeline said simply, catching his eye, "If there is one thing a woman despises in a man, is him making her out to be a fool…"

Operations laughed.

"I suppose that's true."

"It is true," Madeline said taking another sip

"How is Michael handling all this?"

"As he always does, fine."

"Good – good," he said, "So you think we can trust putting these two on a mission together?"

Madeline sighed, "Will just have to see, won't we?"

Nikita was only half listening as Walter was instructing her on how to load the gun; he had in front of him.

He noticed, "Am I putting you to sleep, sugar?"

She turned to him and favored him with a blinding white smile.

"I am just tired, go on…"

"You sure, you know, I am an excellent listener not to mention a pretty great lover – believe you and me, both…"

Nikita laughed and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "I have no doubt," she replied humoring him.

"Nikita," a voice said from behind her.

It was Michael calling her from the door; she turned to him and back to Walter.

"Looks as if I am being summoned," she said.

"Go to sugar, I'll be here when you get back."

"You'd better be," she replied as she followed Michael out of the room.

"What is it Michael?" she asked with a not so subtle sigh of annoyance.

"They want to see us," he said simply.

"Oh goody for us…" she replied as she followed him to the conference room.

"How are you doing?" he asked trying to start a conversation but she wasn't having it. "Fine, look at you all healed up…but then again, when you're not even human, it's easy enough to find new parts, right Michael?"

"Right, Nikita." He said a little sadly refusing to be baited.

She shook her head at him and started walking ahead of him…

He paused, watching her…

If only there was someway for him to tell her the truth, but he knew he couldn't. She would die if he did. He wanted her to live even if it meant having her hate him. Even if it meant never having her – he had paid many a price in his life but this was by the far the hardest. He wasn't sure he could do it even if her life depended on it.

They were in Paris, France, gathering Intel and posing as an American couple on their honeymoon. They needed to get surveillance of a man by the name of Sebastian Valmour, an arms dealer. They were to gather as much surveillance as they could in three days, Sebastian Velmour was a very rich man, he enjoyed throwing lavish parties and they were all set to crash one as guests of a very rich fictional art dealer.

They had retired to their rooms to get ready for the event and since they had to be a couple on their honeymoon, there was only one room and one bed, a luxurious king size, that both uneasily tried to ignore.

"I get the bathroom," Nikita said dropping her luggage on the floor.

"Go ahead, "Michael replied ignoring the bed and choosing a large over stuffed chair to sit on.

Nikita grabbed one of her bags and hurried into the bathroom.

He must have dozed for when he awoke; Nikita was standing before him, decked out in a lovely red silk dress, with long black gloves, her hair twisted up on a stylish knot. He tried to remain indifferent but she looked exquisite, in fact, he had never seen a woman more beautiful in his life.

"You look nice," he managed to choke out.

Her eyebrow shot up.

"Yeah, well you look a little underdressed," she replied taking in the jeans and leather jacket.

"I will be done in a moment," he said rising, as she watched him gather up his things and go into the bathroom to get ready. She sat down on the chair he had occupied, catching the brief scent of cologne as she did so and her heart panged a little. She tried to will that away. He is a liar, a fraud, a user – he doesn't care for you and never did, it was ploy on his part, she told herself and nothing more.

In twenty minutes. He stepped out of the bathroom, looking every bit as handsome as she knew he would, in his tux. There was that pang again.

"You look pretty snazzy," she said easily.

"I do my best," he said simply enough.

A sense of humor, did he even have one? She started to speak but stopped herself. "Ready," he asked.

"I was born ready," she replied.

The party was a lavish affair, with at least three dozen couples milling about, swilling champagne. There was an orchestra in the corner and a decadent buffet set out at the end of the room.

"Some shindig," Nikita said as she grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. "You know what to do…" Michael instructed as he disappeared into the crowd, leaving Nikita to scope out Sebastian Velmour. He was in the corner, a tall bored looking brunette on his arm and a couple of hired goons standing not so far away. He was chatting with a man who Nikita recognized from his picture. Abdul Mzaar, a rich Saudi with ties to many terrorist cells. She walked towards them with casual ease, as she paused in their line of sight to enjoy a steaming hot canapé. She could feel both men's eyes on her, checking her out. She turned a bright smile on them and as she did, the sparkling bracelet on her wrist, snapped pictures of their meeting. She turned away; mission done but then there was hand on her arm. She turned and saw one of the goons there. "Your host wishes to meet you." She looked back to see Sebastian raising his glass to her, while the lecherous Saudi leered at her.

"Sure," she said briskly, as she followed him over.

"Enjoying the party," Sebastian asked as Nikita came towards him, while the hired hand discreetly slipped into the background once again.

"It's very lovely; I was just telling my husband…" Sebastian and the Saudi took note of the fake wedding band placed on her hand.

"In fact, were on are honeymoon…"

"Everything okay," She heard Michael whisper into her headset.

"Why this is some party," she said ignoring him. She charmed them both with another smile.

"I am so glad to hear that," Sebastian said as he kissed her hand.

"You be sure to tell that husband of yours that he is a very lucky man."

"Yes, yes," Abdul offered, leering at her.

"I will thank you," she said as she saw Michael approaching. She turned and hurried back over to the buffet table, were she chewed on some celery. Michael came over to her, while both men watched.

"What do you think your doing?" he demanded, with a hard grip on her arm.

"Nibbling," she said nonchalantly.

"Why did you go over there?" he asked his eyes angry.

"We were supposed to be covert, now they know your face."

"They know yours now too," she replied as Michael turned and saw them looking. He looked back at her angry.

"Upstairs, now!" he demanded.

"Upstairs, to the bedroom…" she said playfully but he was having none of it.

"Now!" he commanded and turning his back hurried to the lobby, she trailed after him.

There was stony silence on the way up to their room. Once they were in there, he turned on her again.

"You have damaged this entire mission, we were suppose to observe for three days, three and already they know you,"

"They would have noticed me anyway, "she informed as she slid out of her heels and took off her gloves. He watched as she took the pins out of her hair and allowed her long tresses to fall softly around her shoulders.

"After all – men tend to remember a beautiful woman, wouldn't you agree, Michael?"

He found he couldn't answer. His throat was thick with desire as he watched her standing there. She was so poised, so unbelievably beautiful. He was growing uncomfortably warm watching her; he turned his back on her.

"Your right, it was unavoidable," he said thickly.

"Thank you," she replied.

He looked back towards her and saw that she was going into the bathroom, she was out in minutes, her face scrubbed clean and she was wearing a fluffy white bathroom. She saw that he was sitting in a chair by the window, she could see his reflection in the glass, brooding.

"Are you still angry with me?" she asked coming up behind him.

"No," he said simply. She found herself reaching out, touching his shoulder. He pulled away from her as if she had singed him.

"Don't do that, Nikita," he replied.

"Fine," she said trying to hide the edge in her voice.

They stood there quiet, watching their reflections in the glass.

"I am going to bed, we can share…"

"You take the bed, I am fine were I am…"

There were tears in her eyes but he did not see them, She loved him, oh god, how she did and yet, she could not figure him out. Who was he? What was he thinking?

"Michael," she whispered.

"Yes, Nikita?" he asked, turning slowly towards her.

She hated herself for asking, for sounding so pathetic but she need to know, she had to finally get him to tell her some sort of truth… how could it have been nothing more then lies?

"Why were you crying, when I woke up…if you don't…"

"Don't do this…" He sounded pained.

He didn't realize that she had to do this, had to get it out.

"No, tell me…look at me, in the eye and tell me, it was a lie, all of it – every look, every word…tell me, do you or do you not love me?"

The question hung there for a moment, like a gulf between them, enormous.

He stood and turned towards her, so slowly, she felt as if they were caught under water. Then he was standing in front of her, his green eyes fixed firmly on hers.

He met her eyes with all the courage he could muster, those eyes of hers; they had the look of redemption in them. It was she and only she could free his soul of the pain it had lived the last ten years in.

"Tell me?" she whispered.

He reached out for her hand, took it and placed it on his heart.

Whatever I feel for you, it can not be – you must understand that, I can't –"

She moved closer and closed her other hand over the one he held over his heart.

"Just let me in," she said and he closed his eyes and then opening them, he took a deep breath.

"Go to sleep, Nikita." He told her.

Her eyes grew wide with pain, anger, even fear. She shook her head at him, stung by the callousness of his words.

He released her hand and walked away from her.

She watched him once again feeling that slow breaking of her heart, how she wanted him and yet, there he was rebuffing her, making her feel as if she was not worthy of him, of his secrets.

"Whatever is left of your heart, Michael, it will rot in there." She told him as he grabbed his coat from the chair and slid it on. "Goodnight," he said as he hurried from the room, closing the door on both her and their conversation.

Once the door was closed, he leaned against it, he felt at once out of breath and truly frightened. An emotion that numbed him - surprised him. He had wanted her so badly, he almost weakened but he knew he couldn't. He couldn't sign her death warrant and yet he knew he could not go on like this, the pain of it was becoming unbearable.

_It will rot in there…_

She was right; he could not be without her. They would find a way. He turned and opened the door, catching her off guard. She was standing by the window, crying. She held up her hand as if she were ashamed for him to see her like that.

"Michael…" she said as he slammed the door behind him and came towards her, so quickly, she hardly had time to brace herself before she was in his arms and he was kissing her, so hard, she could scarcely breathe.

He pulled back slightly and met her eyes; saw a lone tear trail itself down her face, her expression was one of surprise, weariness, and disbelief.

"Whatever is left of my heart is yours, Nikita," he told her in between kisses.

"It's a bloody, beaten thing – not worth anything, but, it's yours –it's yours."

She circled her arms around him, drew him into her, into the heat of her mouth – the moment.

"I know," she said as he lifted her up in his arms and carried her to the bed, lowered her down upon it.

He shifted his weight on top her, holding back – she could feel it.

She pulled back and met his eyes; he could feel the robe she had on coming apart and nothing underneath it but her warm nakedness. It was too much for him. He gave a strangled cry and pushed her down, gripping her hands, he set upon kissing her, exploring her body beneath his hands.

Then he was crying, shaking a tide of emotion surged through him – from his heart to his loins and he was whispering her nae over and over again… Nikita – Nikita – Nikita…

She could not speak, she could not answer him, for he was inside her and the pleasure of it, the depth of her emotion – took her away from herself and she was crying with him.

This wasn't love – this was torture, she thought as she gave herself up to him and the consummation of what they both had spent years yearning for.

He sat there watching her sleep, the moonlight illuminating her beautiful face. She was in his arms, resting comfortably. He did not know what to do now that they had made love. He did not know what to do, what to tell her in regards to Operations terms. If they ever found out about them, she would be dead and that would be it.

There had to be some way, because he knew now, he could no longer go on without Nikita. She was it, the love of his life, and having almost lost her once to many, he knew he wasn't going to let her go again. He sat up, Nikita stirred in her sleep and then rolled over, going back to sleep. He got up and went to the telephone were he called Operations on his direct line. It was late and then big man was asleep.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's Michael…"

"Is everything alright?" He asked.

"No, we have a problem," he said slowly, watching as Nikita slept, blissfully unaware of what was going on around her.

"Which is…?"

"I am in love with Nikita and she is love with me, you can cancel us both when we return, but, I am not giving her up."

There was a pause.

"Are you serious?"

"Very," Michael replied.

"You're a fool," He said, as he slammed down the phone. Michael replaced the phone into its cradle, just as Nikita woke up and saw him standing there nude by the phone.

"Is everything alright?" she asked.

"Yes, I think so – I hope so…Nikita," he whispered, sliding into bed beside her and taking her in his arms.

"I would die for you."

She searched his eyes, smiled, and leaned forward to kiss him.

"I would die for you too, now come back to bed." He nodded and sliding back under the covers, he wrapped her up in his arms; she rested her head on his chest.

"Goodnight Michael," she whispered, sleepily. "Goodnight Nikita," he replied, wide-awake.


End file.
